


date

by tendervittles



Category: Teen Titans (Animated Series)
Genre: Abuse, Broken Bones, Collars, Come Eating, Corporal Punishment, Dubious Consent, Facials, Leashes, M/M, Masturbation, Serious Injuries, Stockholm Syndrome, Whipping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:35:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24186007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tendervittles/pseuds/tendervittles
Summary: it's a special day for slade and robin
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson
Comments: 4
Kudos: 50





	date

**Author's Note:**

> I'm gonna be honest, I have next to no knowledge about DC, but I stumbled across this pairing (look, Slade is a hot name, I hear that, I'm investigating) and so this fic was conceived... I hope I did an okay job hahah
> 
> I'm posting it in two parts because I have no patience and just had to post at least part of it

_He had forgotten what it was like to feel rain on his face..._

Robin's eyes fluttered open as his stunted brain was jerked back to consciousness by a heavy hand fisted in his hair and a deep voice ordering—

“Open your _mouth_.”

“Yes, M—“

Slade released Robin's hair to deliver a savage backhand that Robin knew would have his jaw shadowed by bruises in a few hours. (At least it wasn't broken... That had happened, once, and Slade had reminded him how burdensome it was every time he propped Robin up in his lap to help him eat.)

“Don't babble at me like an idiot, boy. When I tell you to do something, you do it.”

An apology sprang to his lips but Robin caught himself and opened wide. He offered Slade the flat of his tongue. It made a wet, meaty sound when his master tapped it with his tip. Drops of pre-cum from his master's leaking cock landed on Robin's cheeks.

_Like rain._

“Now hold still.”

Slade continued to jerk off above him. The first pulse of his cock splashed cum across Robin's forehead before Slade redirected himself between the boy's lips. When he finished, he watched Robin swallow before wiping himself off on his cheek and moving away.

“Get yourself cleaned up,” Slade ordered as he dressed. He pulled an extra shirt from the closet and tossed it in Robin's direction without turning around. “Put this on when you're finished.”

Wordlessly, Robin drifted into the en suite bathroom. His mind was still hazy from sleep and the side of his face ached from Slade's earlier blow. He splashed cold water on his face and ran wet fingers through his hair. Once satisfied that he'd washed away the last vestiges of Slade's orgasm, Robin returned to the bedroom to tackle his next task.

Clothes with buttons were a challenge. When Slade got bored of punishing Robin with his belt, he liked to break fingers instead. Many had been snapped more than once; they were stiff and awkward and Robin fumbled trying to get the shirt on correctly. It was difficult to breathe. He'd gotten some of the buttons wrong and anxiety ate away at him, twisting in his stomach until Robin felt like he might throw up.

Back when they still trained together, Slade would lecture him about mastering his emotions, but—

“Robin.”

He'd been so absorbed, he had missed his master's approach. Slade gave Robin's sorry attempt to dress himself a once-over. He didn't comment, but clipped Robin's leash on and jerked him forward. Robin prepared to be punished for inconveniencing his master.

Slade frowned, but Slade's hands only moved to tug at Robin's shirt collar, adjusting it before moving down to fix the buttons. When he had finished, he rolled the sleeves up so they no longer hid Robin's hands. Then he wound the leash around his hand and tugged Robin forward.

“Come. Breakfast.”

He must have looked hopeful because Slade jerked the leash and added, “You've already had yours. Don't be greedy.”

“Yes, Master.” Robin replied.

“ _Apologize_.” 

How could he have forgotten? He was as stupid as his master said, as ungrateful as Slade always claimed. Looking down at his bare feet, Robin said, “I'm sorry, Master Slade. Everything you give me is a privilege to be earned.”

“And why do you have to earn it, pet?”

“To make me better.” His voice somehow managed to come out loud enough to avoid being punished for mumbling.

Slade scoffed. “Maybe one day we'll even see some progress.” 

The criticism stung, but Slade delivered no further correction. Robin limped after as his master walked him down the hall. All of his attention focused on keeping up. 

It hurt to walk. The soles of Robin's feet were covered in crisscrossing cuts from the last time Slade had whipped him. Cumming without permission was a severe infraction; Robin had been punished accordingly.

His master must be in a good mood today. Putting aside the purpling bruise across Robin's jaw, Slade had been nothing but lenient. Either he was pleased about something—or he was compiling a mental list of Robin's mistakes with the intention of giving a cumulative punishment later. 

Lost in his worries as he was, it was a moment before Robin realized Slade was leading him  _away_ from the dining room. Perhaps he'd been wrong about his punishment being delayed until after Slade had his breakfast.

But Robin wasn't taken to the concrete cell Slade used when disciplining him.

Breakfasts was laid out buffet-style in a comfortable sitting room Robin had never been to before. Thick curtains blocked out the sun; the only light in the room came from the hearth. Robin's eyes landed on the iron poker hanging unassumingly beside its fellow tools. His hand slipped down to rest against his hip, where the hem of Slade's shirt hid the insignia seared into his flesh.

Slade settled into the armchair set before the fireplace. “Sit, pet.” He ordered, and Robin slipped between his master's legs. Carpet would be easier on his knees than hardwood or concrete, and it was cozy in front of the fire. Robin marveled at his luck; Slade could have as easily left him in the bedroom, chained to the wall and alone. He laid his cheek against Slade's knee in a silent gratitude.

Slade speared a sausage with his fork. He added three more to his plate before choosing one, hold it up between two fingers. Bringing his hand down, he traced Robin's lips with the meat. It was so tempting to lick away the grease left behind.

“Open.”

Slade slipped the sausage into Robin's mouth, thrusting it gently in and out. The taste was enough to make Robin's eyes water. He didn't dare try for a bite.

“Today is a special day, pet. Do you remember why?”

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on twitter @_tender_vittles if ya nasty~
> 
> I also have a Sladin discord server w/ my friends now!!! sorry to like dive headfirst into this fandom lmao


End file.
